


All Your Demons

by ZombieCrow



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dark May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Kid Peter Parker, Norman Osborn's A+ parenting, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCrow/pseuds/ZombieCrow
Summary: Tony Stark was good at many things. When (if) he ever returned to normal life, he would add running to the list.---------------------------------------It didn't sit well with him, and the wrongness of the whole situation grew with every step he took inward. How fucking stupid was he, to willingly take this on? It felt foolish all of the sudden, as if he suddenly was realizing exactly what he planned to do.A small island where he couldn't be contacted with anything. A job in a house he didn't even know existed or not, truthfully. An employer to spoke on the phone with twice, a mysterious housekeeper and an even eerier child. An orphan, for God's sake. All of it swirled in his head, making Tony barely notice where he was walking.It didn't matter much, though. Somehow he knew he would find his way to the salvation he felt so uneasy about now.Or: Tony wants to outrun what he's done. Taking a job on a remote island fixing an old house seemed like the perfect solution.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	All Your Demons

**Author's Note:**

> New fic, finally! 
> 
> It's half inspired by The Haunting of Bly Manor - in the idea of a remote manor someone is going to with weird kids and staff. :P thats all for now. 
> 
> Hope yall enjoy.

_Looking for full-time handyman. Perks include room and board in historical house. Due to age, the home is in need of many different repairs, for a variety of reasons. Must be skilled with many different trades, including but not limited to:_

_Plumbing  
Electrician  
Mechanical  
Woodworking  
Etc… _

_This is a serious, year round offer. Whoever is hired will be paid handsomely and have their needs taken care of whilst residing at the house. Serious inquires only._

_Job Employer - Norman Osborne  
Job Location - Parconetto Island (more details to be given with interview)  
Start Date - ASAP  
Rate - Inquire (more details to be given with interview)_

^^^

The job ad seemed hasty. It was too vague, bordering on downright unbelievable, but Tony was desperate. It was the exact situation he had been looking for, in the exact type of place he was looking for. 

In fact, typing in Parconetto Island into Google got him nothing more than a handful of pages detailing its (boring) history, ferry ticket prices and a shitty blog or two. Hell, it didn't even have a real Wikipedia page - just the barebones of population, size, and probably fake facts. 

He was amused to find someone had rated the island on Google, however, as if the whole thing was a tourist attraction. 

_J.Jam890 rated Parconetto Island: 1 Star  
Nothing but Rude Locals and Fake Ghosts  
\--------------  
Was promised that there were REAL ghosts. All I got were rude jerks who refused to talk to me and a couple of teenagers pranking me in the cemetery. Do NOT go!!!_

_Well._ Since Tony wasn't going for anything supernaturally inclined, he felt it okay to ignore the review warning him against a visit. Besides, he wasn't exactly looking to hunker down for a week or two of unplugging. This stay would be more of the permanent type.

( _As long as he could truly ignore his colossal fuck up and his own feelings of guilt all mixed together in some horribly dark melting pot of sadness and anger. He knew eventually he would have to get back, somehow, but for the time being all he wanted was to drown his sorrow out with some good old fashioned physical labor._ ) 

The only problem was the goddamn telephone number. 

Tony had tried to call it a handful of times, at all times of morning, afternoon and evening. Every time it would ring once, twice, at least three times before eventually puttering out. Not even an automated woman's voice telling him to leave a message, or even that there was a full mailbox. Absolutely nothing but a steady _beep beep beep_ answered him. 

He was almost ready to give up. The glass of whiskey in his hand was only half drunk, but more so because its 2 brothers had found their way to his bloodstream already. Instead of lulling him he felt wired by the alcohol, on edge and snappy. 

To be fair, everything made him feel that way nowadays. Just waking up he felt nervous and upset. Alcohol would do little to calm that for him. It did, however, give him the idea to type the ads number into his old flip phone one last time, and listen as it rang. 

It was the only one not inundated with calls from his friends, the press, or even just the general public. His work and personal lines had all been doxxed by now former employees, which left him with little else to use. 

( _"We'll get you new ones." His voice was stony, and they both pointedly ignored the incessant ringing of the phones on the table beside them. Tony shook with anger before he responded, as calmly as he could. "Well could you get me a new fucking life while you're at it, Obi? A fucking reset button, maybe?"_ ) 

It was nice to imagine it working out at least. Living quietly for as long as he wanted, working his days away and not thinking about how his life imploded so spectacularly. It was almost - 

"Hello, this is Norman Osborne." 

Tony almost dropped the phone out of sheer shock, before fumbling it up to his ear with a shaky hand. Holy fucking shit, did the man just actually pick up for once? The one time he was slightly tipsy and shaking like a newborn kitten? 

"Hello?" The voice repeated itself, sounding confused. Tony gasped before letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

"Hello, hello - oh God, I'm sorry, I'm calling about the job -" 

He jerked away from his phone with a cry as the quiet breathing on the other line turned into ear piercing _BEEP BEEP BEEPS,_ loud enough to make him drop his phone. 

"What?! No, fuck, fuck, no -" Tony mumbled to himself, jumping up from his chair besides the window and grabbing for his phone. The line had suddenly stopped working. This couldn't be happening, not when it was finally working, not when he had a chance. It couldn't be. Not to him, not after everything else that happened. 

The universe couldn't take this away as well. 

He punched the number in again as fast as he could, breath coming out in steady little gulps for air as he listened to it ring, once, twice, three times - 

"Hello? Is this the same person?" Tony could have cried with relief at the answer, even if it might have started him off on the wrong foot with the man. 

"Hello, yes yes, it's me, I'm sorry about that," he babbled nervously, clenching his fist so hard he could feel it vibrating. "I think we got broken up. I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright. The connection on my side is, well, challenging." Osborne said, sounding so far away to Tony. As if he were standing a couple feet away from his phone and talking normally. "But it's becoming easier." 

( _What a weird way to talk about it he would think later, challenging connection and it becoming easier, not language one typically used when complaining about their cell service._ ) 

"Oh, I see. Sorry to hear that, then. I was just calling because I saw the job requesting you posted online, Mr. Osborne? About a full time live in handyman." 

"Please, call me Norman! Yes yes, I hadn't had an inquiry yet about that. I was beginning to lose hope I would find anyone in time for winter, I'm glad you called." The man sounded delighted, making Tony feel at ease. If there was no competition it would be even easier. Osborne would probably be chomping at the bit to get anyone, let alone him. "What's your name, then?" 

"Ergh, it's um, Anthony Stark. Tony, my friends call me." He expected some sort of reaction but instead was met with silence. Trying for some humor, he pushed forward. "Yeah, this is that Tony Stark. The billionaire one." 

"I thought as much." His tone was much cooler now, causing the relief Tony had felt to instantly vanish. Perhaps Osborne was someone he wronged as well? Or just not a fan? Not that there were many of those anymore anyways. 

"Um, yeah. That's - that's me." He let out a chuckle, still attempting for some humor. Maybe if he just continued to ignore it, the other man wouldn't bring it up and take his tiny spark of hope away. "Anyways, the job…?" 

"It's a handyman job to fix a house. Not weapons, or building advanced A.I." Osborne almost spat the words out, before seemingly drawing his emotions in. "I think you might be confused on what exactly this is." 

"No no. I know exactly what this is, Norman, and I'm very interested in it." Tony responded, tone just as cool now. It was a tip he had learnt from his business - people responded well to those who matched them. He could certainly do it to this man as well. "It's to fix a house. I know how to fix a house, and I'm well versed in all the areas you mentioned. Hell, I'm well versed in everything mechanical. Or do you need a portfolio of my work?" 

"You owned a multi-million dollar company, Mr. Stark. Forgive me if I'm skeptical." Osborne scoffed, the tinny quality making the sound crackle with static in his ears. Tony grit his teeth, thankful the man couldn't see. 

"Well, you know, that kind of didn't exactly… work." Tony trailed off, not sure how much more to get into. Osborne obviously knew of him, so he knew the recent development in that line of his life. There was no point in getting more into it. "I'm looking for something different now. Something a lot quieter, I guess. Where I can't mess anything up more than a house." 

Osborne was quiet for a moment, before he let out a short sigh. "I don't know. It needs extensive renovations, and I need someone there full time. I don't want you to get caught up with your business and leave." 

Business, as in - legal fees, public outcry, apology tours, the whole 'I fucked everything up in the world, I'm sorry' rodeo. The exact thing Tony was hoping to avoid by fleeing. 

Sure, it wasn't what people wanted to do. It wasn't what his friends wanted him to do either. But it was the only option where he could see a light at the end of the tunnel, so to say, or at least one that maybe didn’t end with him drinking himself to death before forty. 

And even then, he still might. 

"Norman, I don't mean to be too forward, but the last goddamn thing I would wanna do is leave. The whole point of this is that I don't have to leave, right? That I can't? That's what I want." Tony hated the desperate note in his voice, but if it got him what he needed he would beg whoever he had to. Anything to get out of goddamn New York City, as rural as he could conceivably be. 

A tiny island with little to no cell service that housed around a hundred people sounded great to him. Even better, the ferry only visited like what, three times a week, round trip? It was as isolated as he could be in America without flying off to Alaska. 

( _Not that he didn't consider it. But with the weather getting colder day by day, Tony really didn't want to be miserable and freezing 24/7. He would take just miserable._ ) 

"A-and I'm good with my hands. Real fuckin' good - excuse my language," he added quickly, before charging ahead. Tony didn't like how the silence on the other side stretched on. It felt like every second narrowed his chances of convincing Osborne to hire him. "I got into college at 14, man. I'm the best you'll get, and you know it." 

"It doesn't pay well. At least not for your standards." 

Tony scoffed at that, shaking his head. The man must've known it was a weak deflection, because he spoke again soon after, much slower than before. 

"There's the boy to consider as well, Stark." 

That caught his attention, momentarily unable to comprehend what the other man was saying. The boy? Had there been any word of this on the ad he found? Surely he would have remembered if that was the case. The job was for a handyman, a fixer, not a caretaker. Not a nanny. 

"What boy?" Tony said finally, some of his irritation leaking into his tone. If Osborne was going to run such circles around him, maybe it wasn't worth it. Sure, it was literally exactly what he was looking for, up until this boy was mentioned. 

It wasn't that Tony was bad with children - it was that he wasn't anything with them. He had never interacted with any outside of his own childhood, and he hadn't exactly planned on starting. It wasn't a bad development per say, but it did bother him that it wasn't explained until now. 

"He's my ward, Stark. The house is his family dwelling actually, but their deaths have made me his… provider. He sleeps there, takes his lessons there, plays there, holidays there - it's his house. I wouldn't want him to get in your way. It would only be you, him, and the housekeeper most days." 

"You don't live there? Even though he's your - kid, basically?" Tony asked, eyebrows furrowed. Some part of him wanted to question other parts of the story, but he soldiered on in the moment. The deaths and the housekeeper could be explained once he received the job offer.

"Well, yes." Osborne admitted. "But my work is incredibly important, so I'm more often than not at my office day and night. I work in the city in New York, and the ferry only runs every so often. But you know how work is, don't you?" 

He did. There were many nights he spent passed out on the threadbare couch he kept in his lab for that exact purpose. But Tony didn't have a child to attend to, one who apparently had no other company but a single housekeeper. He didn't have that responsibility to another life. 

"Besides, he's well taken care of and healthy. The boy enjoys his solitary life, Stark. The island has a different culture for all." 

Tony took a breath. Getting into arguments with the man he needed a job from was definitely not a good idea, but it didn't stop the anger from forming. Perhaps it was biased, but his own cold childhood made his blood run hot nowadays, especially with his mind making comparisons.

"You need the house fixed. I can handle one kid, he can't be that much trouble." Tony said eventually, as neutrally as he could manage. He didn't know whether what he said was the truth yet or not, but Osborne didn't need to know that much. "So? What do you say?" 

More silence. Tony could feel a bead of sweat drop down his forehead and he wiped furiously at it, willing his body to feel some semblance of calm. His nerves refused the order, instead leaving his jittery and twitching all at once. 

It was only his fate, after all. 

"Well…" Osborne sounded as if he were frowning, making Tony take in a deep breath and hold it. He felt as if he might pass out, no matter what the answer was. 

"When could you start?" 

^^^ 

The ferry made a trek to Parconetto Island twice a week, Monday and Friday, only in the am. They stopped for what seemed like only half an hour to Tony, hardly enough time for anyone to board or get off. Not that there seemed to be anyone else than him.

No one followed him off, and he didn't see anyone else getting onto the ferry. Just a quick hop off and suddenly it was gone, leaving him on a wooden dock, clutching his small suitcase. 

But this was what he wanted, right? The isolation that came with standing on the precipice of his new life, no other souls around him for what seemed like miles, only vague directions for where he should go. No cell service until he got to the house. 

Absolute and total aloneness. 

( _And it pricked at the back of his neck, a stinging feeling that raised his hackles. For a moment he could imagine there was no one else on the island, just an abandoned ghost town. For the rest of his days he would be forced to wander, to atone somehow for what he had done, and what he hadn't done._ ) 

He took off the simple disguise he had put on once leaving his building in New York City, one that seemed to have fooled enough people that he didn't attract a crowd or press. The scarf hiked high over his face and winter hat were shoved deep into the pockets of his black overcoat. 

The sunglasses got the same, albeit gentler treatment, to be hidden away in the folds of a different pocket. 

He had some ideas of what direction to head from his second (and last) phone call with Osborne, but that was about it. The connection had been better that time, the man not sounding so far away and distant. He explained he wouldn't be there until the next week early Monday morning, but that the housekeeper had already been forewarned of his arrival. 

No mention of Peter, though. Of whether he had been considered important enough to be told of the adult imminently approaching to enter his life. 

It didn't sit well with him, and the wrongness of the whole situation grew with every step he took inward. How fucking stupid was he, to willingly take this on? It felt foolish all of the sudden, as if he suddenly was realizing exactly what he planned to do. 

A small island where he couldn't be contacted with anything. A job in a house he didn't even know existed or not, truthfully. An employer to spoke on the phone with twice, a mysterious housekeeper and an even eerier child. An orphan, for God's sake. All of it swirled in his head, making Tony barely notice where he was walking. 

It didn't matter much, though. Somehow he knew he would find his way to the salvation he felt so uneasy about now. 

^^^

The house hadn't been hard to find at all. Even with his heavy thoughts, Tony eventually found himself standing in front of his new residence. It was basically a straight shot from the ferry docking, just keep walking until you reach black iron gates. Unlocked, though, as if they were for decoration only. Which maybe they were. 

The other thing Tony instantly realized was that this was no house at all. No, it was closer to a fucking castle, if anything. It was a huge, sprawling, dark monstrosity of a building. It loomed in front of him expectantly. Vines creeped on all outside walls, showing the utter decay of such an old building. 

He was meant to fix this? This seemingly Victorian nightmare? The pages of sites Tony read before didn't even seem to indicate the island was inhabited anytime as far back as this house appeared to be. 

He hesitated once he reached the double doors, still gripping his suitcase to his chest. Tonight Tony knew his fingers would be red and angry at him for this, but at the moment it felt like an anchor in such a strange world. Something he could understand, something that felt familiar to him. 

The golden door knocker in his other hand was the exact opposite. Unfamiliar and alien, a tether to the unknown. Tony considered for a second turning around, somehow getting the cell service needed to call someone and get a private jet, or a boat for him. Anything out of this quicksand he felt he had waded into unexpectedly, but willingly. 

( _But it was what came after that kept him from doing so. The questions that would come, the way they would pry answers out of him like teeth, the disappointment, the anger, the stone in his stomach turning so heavy it ripped a hole in him and left him half a human. A shell. Something unable to ever repair itself._ ) 

He knocked once, waiting just a beat before trying to open it itself. It was no surprise when it swung open, so loud Tony cringed with the sound. Had they never greased the hinges in its lifetime? What was its lifetime? 

Stepping inside, he grabbed the door and shut it behind him with a bang, before taking in the riches in front of him. 

The house-castle lived up to his formidable outside, seeming just as vast. The foyer opened up to two massive hallways on either side, with a huge staircase directly in front of him. On the landing it branched off in two directions, leading up to two more hallways just as long as the two below seemed to be. Two floors of rot and ruin for Tony to break apart and fix with his bare hands. 

He took only a single step forward before going still. There was - something - on the stairs landing. A humanoid shape, hard to make out in the dark of the house. It seemed only partially lit, with a haphazard of different eras of lights, and he could even see some candles strewn about. It made it hard to tell just what exactly was up there. 

"Hell...oh." he trailed off with his next step, realizing what it was. It had shifted at his noise, almost catching him with fright before his eyes adjusted enough to tell what was in front of him. The figure wasn't some sort of odd statue, but a living, breathing person. A small person, in fact. A child. 

The one Osborne had spoken about it, that's who he was. The ward Peter, the only permanent resident of the house who wasn't paid to stay. 

Tony let go of his suitcase, tipping it over to lean on the wall with his foot. He saw that the child shifted at the noise, but still didn't deign to look in its direction. He frowned at that, but more in consideration than anything else. 

It could mean Peter was the stuck up brat that Osborne seemed to imply he was. But it could also mean he was nervous, or unsure, or a million other things. If there was one thing about Tony that stuck with people, it was that he tried to look for alternatives to most things in life. That included the people in it. 

Approaching slowly, Tony waved to the boy to try and grab his attention, seeing a quick turn of his head for his efforts. The stairs creaked tremendously under his footfalls, which wasn't the best sign of the state the house was in. He wasn't anywhere near heavy set, but they seemed to groan with stress under his weight. 

Even with the noise, the child didn't look at him again, instead fiddling with something in his hands. He tapped his socked feet against the red carpeting below him, turning his face slightly - just enough that Tony couldn't see his face. 

He slowed as he neared Peter on the landing, coming to a stop right in front of him. Awkwardly, Tony cleared his throat, simply watching the boy not-watch him. He took in his appearance for a minute, letting himself commit it to memory. 

Peter was a small child it seemed, for his age. Not tiny, but under what could be considered 'normal'. He had brown curly hair, cut as neatly as someone who wasn't a hair stylist could. His shirt was starch white, ironed meticulously it seemed, with brown trousers and a deep red sweater vest. 

He looked like a stereotypical little rich kid, in Tony's opinion. Little prep school kid ready to get shipped out to a boarding school, maybe. 

( _He looked like Tony did when he was little, his mind supplied, but promptly shut up when told to do so._ ) 

Uncertain of how to approach the situation, Tony cleared his throat again before speaking. "Uhh, hey, little man. My names Tony." 

No reply. Peter moved one hand into view, letting him see what the boy was playing with - a little red toy car. One wheel was missing and the paint was chipped, so it was obviously sentimental to the boy. He could probably have any toy his heart desired, yet he still played with this. 

"I don't know if anyone told you, but I'm gonna be staying here for awhile, with you. Is that okay?" He waited a beat, but wasn't surprised when no response came. "I'm fixing the house up. Making it a little less rickety, right?" 

Peter's face turned enough for him to catch a glimpse, before tipping far down enough for his hair to block it out again. Tony tapped one foot onto the floor, his nerves betraying him. He was trying his goddamn hardest with the kid, and it was getting him nowhere fast. 

"C'mon kid, you gotta give an old man something to work with!" he joked, bending down to get more at Peter's level. His body screamed at the move, but he ignored it for the moment.

Brown eyes peered up at him inquisitively, mouth pursed with some humor. The boy didn't respond to the comment, but did tilt his head in acknowledgement.

"Well, you got a name, kid?" Tony asked, finally giving in and sitting down. His knees were already screaming with protest from the minutes of strain he put on them, not even taking into consideration the walking. If he was really going to get to know the Manors most consistent resident, he would do some good for his body and take a rest. 

The kid nodded shyly, but didn't offer anything more. Instead he ran the red toy car over a bump in the carpet, watching it flatten and rise back up with fascination. 

Tony frowned again, more bemused than frustrated. Of course he already knew Peter's name, but it would be nice to hear the kid speak even one word. If they were going to interacting regularly, it would be pretty important for them to get to speaking terms. 

"Well… what, you need me to guess?" he teased, grinning when Peter let out his own tiny smile. "Oh yeah? Hmm… let me think." 

Pretending to be thinking as hard as he was able, Tony rubbed his hands together, quick and firm. Selling an act was something he was always good at, whether trying to shore up investors or learn a little boy's name. 

( _The two were not so different really, he thought. The main bit was making them interested in what you were selling them - whether that be weapons or your kindness._ ) 

Peter stalled with the toy, gently placing it down on the center of the carpet bump. His eyes still did not trail fully up. He could see the doe eyes peering up through his lashes, but nothing more. 

"Is your name… Dennis?" Tony said it quickly, giving an excited clap as he did. Peter shook his head at that, letting out a quiet giggle. 

( _It was the first real sound he heard out of the boy, and at that a flash of pride lit up his frame like it was the most important thing he could be doing. At this moment, maybe it was. There was nothing else in his life anymore anyways._ ) 

Tony let out a fake gasp, clutching at his chest as if he were truly shocked. In truth, he partially was, because now Peter was looking at him fully and smiling. One of those little kid smiles ~ almost looking more like a snarl because they had too many teeth crammed inside, with not enough of a sprawl on their faces to fit it fully. 

Cute, really. Tony let himself smile back at the boy with this newfound victory. 

"Okay, well, gimme three more guesses, alright?" he held out three fingers, again letting Peter nod before he continued. 

"Could it be… Christopher?" Tony asked, coming up with the first name he could think of. He stroked his chin, looking at the boy inquisitively as he pretended to consider the name. 

After a second, he let out a little peal of laughter, soft and delighted, as he shook his head. "No!" 

Tony couldn't help but let his own chuckle out. Peter was far more willing to open up than he thought he would be, which delighted him. It would make his stay that much easier, if he knew that the kid was a good one. It was already clear to him that he was, painfully so. 

"Okay, okay. I'll really think about it this time, alright? I'm sure I'll get it." Tony hummed to himself as if he were deep in thought. His plan was to surprise Peter by correctly guessing, but he would leave that to his next try. 

"I think I got it!" Peter nodded eagerly at his words, teeth slipping out from under his smile. The kid had an overbite, and Tony wondered briefly if there was a dentist on the island. There didn't seem to be anything in the way of shops other than a small grocer and maybe one or two other essentials. 

( _It was the type of place where teeth weren't essential. Maybe a doctor, or medic if they were lucky. Or maybe they were the type or place where they took what they got in life and dealt with it best they could, prayed to what they could to make it better and didn't go any further than that._

__

__

_Besides, if the doctor was needed, the ferry didn't know. They came steady on Mondays and Fridays, unheeded by any empty cries._ ) 

Tony was shaken out of his thoughts by a pressure on one of his hands, and looked down surprised to see a tiny hand on it. Peter had taken ahold of him, gripped him with enthusiasm and impatience. Cute in the way only little ones knew how to make it. 

"Sorry, sorry kid. Hmm, okay, my guess?" Tony didn't move away from Peter's hold on him, simply allowing the presence. It felt steady instead of uncomfortable. The burden of knowledge was lifted when it came to the kid, too young and removed to know who Tony was. "Is your name… Ben?" 

Tony smiled, expecting to see one mirrored back at him, maybe some laughter as well. Instead, he instinctively swallowed once he looked up to see Peter's reaction.

"...You know him?" he whispered, eyes wide and mouth open into a round o. Tony couldn't pin down the expression on Peter's face - it was a shifting blur of fear, or maybe awe, or even confusion? The grin on his own face felt plastered on as the seconds passed by. 

He could distantly feel little nails push into the skin of his hand insistently. 

"Know - who? A Ben?" he said eventually, dragging his hand away from the pudgy one grabbing at it, so much tighter now. He didn't know what to think of the sudden change in atmosphere. All he knew was the contact felt burning and too inquisitive, where he had once felt the opposite moments ago. Too much like - 

( _"But did you know, Tony?" And his voice had cracked with the name, making him feel like even more shit than before. His hand was burning a print on his arm and he jerked out if the touch, too hot, too much -_ ) 

"No, my Ben. He's my…" Peter hesitated at that, letting out a huff of air before peering back down at the carpet. His finger traced a pattern on it, a big, looping sprawling B that ran the opposite tread. "Well, he was -" 

"Peter, what're you doing?" 

The new voice startled both Tony and the boy. Peter fell silent, quickly rising to his knees and turning away from the man. His own eyes gazed upwards, mouth once again quirking upwards when he took them in. 

Standing at the top of the staircase, with arms crossed over her chest was a woman in coveralls. They were stained green in the knees and legs, as if she had been kneeling outside for long stretches of time, and a smudge of dirt was visible on her cheek. 

Peter didn't answer her back, just nodded mutely before sitting back down and resuming to play with the toy car. As if nothing happened, no mention of the mysterious Ben who was, not is. 

Tony let out a cough, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. The woman swung her gaze from Peter to him, turning his head to one side slightly as she did. 

"Oh, you must be Tony!" she exclaimed, as if she truly had to think. Maybe she did, but he couldn't think of a single person who didn't at least distantly know the name Tony Stark. After all, the scandal of Stark Enterprises was major news. 

( _But the island was so far cut off from the rest of the world - maybe it was possible that the news of a major tech company scandal was so far removed from their own culture they didn't care to pay attention. Maybe this woman didn't associate his name with the taint of what he did. Of what he knew, or didn't know._ ) 

She marched down the steps, easily side-stepping Peter as she did so. Tony's eyes tracked from her boots (clean, unlike the rest of her attire, as if they were switched for going inside) up to her face again from his sitting position. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up from her face in a messy bun, and she had a spattering of freckles that told him she spent a lot of time in the elements. 

"I'm Pepper. Pepper Potts, or Ms. Potts if you want." Pepper said, extending a hand out to Tony, bending slightly to reach down. "I don't care either way. Housekeeper, and just about everything else here. You need some help getting up?" 

"Uh - sure," he said, taking the offered hand, before rising to his feet with an audible groan. "Knees don't work like they used to. Nothing does, I guess." 

"Perks of getting older." Pepper smiled at him, before nodding towards Peter. The boy had abandoned the car, which he jammed into the pocket of his trousers. Instead he seemed content to stare up at the two adults in front of him. "You hearing this, little man? Don't get old." 

"I'll try not, Ms. Potts." Peter said seriously, standing up mid-sentence. "Can I go play in the garden, maybe?" 

Pepper raised her eyebrows at him, as if they had had the conversation before, then shook her head. "You know it's a no, Peter. Get washed up, it's dinner time soon." 

The boy frowned at her, before nodding his head and turning heel to race up the right staircase. 

"And no running!" Pepper yelled after him, but only half-heartedly. Within a moment the child was out of sight, leaving the two alone. "I swear. That boy is going to be the death of me, the amount of worrying he has me do." 

"He's a troublemaker?" Tony asked, thinking back to his first conversation with Norman Osborne. His intuition was telling him the boy wasn't, but it was probably best to hear it from someone else as well. 

"Oh, no, heavens no." Pepper shook her head with a smile, making Tony feel relieved. Of course, he had just met the woman, but she seemed to know Peter intimately. "He's a good boy. Very sweet. A little odd, but… anyone would be, after what he's been through." 

"Mr. Osborne said something about that… some deaths? And that's why he's taking care of Peter?" Tony broached the subject, fully ready to get iced out. It wasn't something anyone liked to discuss, the dealings of an orphan. Or at least not with a relative stranger. 

"Taking care is too strong for him, I would say." Pepper rolled her eyes, before stepping off the landing past Tony to descend to the ground floor. "But yes, that's right. It was a whole terribly sad string of tragedies, too many to get into tonight. For right now, dinner needs preparation." 

He allowed her to walk past, eyes planted firmly on her figure bounding down the stairs. "You cook dinner then, huh?" 

"I told you, I do everything, Tony. Absolutely everything." she called back, before turning to smile at him. "Thank God you're here, then. Even I can't keep this house from literally falling apart." 

Taking in the surroundings, Tony seriously wondered if he would be able to stop that. It was an old house, far older than he expected, which would make it a great deal more challenging. Fun, but sometimes it was simply the limits of modern technology and not his own skills that came into play. It would certainly not let his mind wander too far, at least. 

"Well, maybe I could help you make dinner for tonight, then. Unless of course, you're secretly a world class chef?" he teased at her, and was rewarded with another smile. It lit up Pepper's whole face, the same way Peter's did to his. 

If he hadn't known any better, Tony probably would've mistaken the two for mother and son. Their clearly easy relationship and similar mannerisms would make it easy to look past the physical differences. 

"I wouldn't say that far, maybe just national," she said back, gesturing for Tony to follow her down the stairs. "But I'll let you decide. I'll even let you handle the hardest part." 

"Oh?" Tony was already striding down the stairs to join her. It was almost too easy to see himself as fitting into the odd house, with Pepper and Peter by his side. Almost too easy to forget what brought him there in the first place, as well. "And what's that, Chef Potts?" 

She laughed once, a trill and light sound. Tony hadn't heard laughter like that in awhile. He hadn't even heard fake laughter since the scandal. 

"You know how to use a microwave, chef Stark?"


End file.
